


Everything Stays

by snowmissus (soul_of_blaze)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon deaths, M/M, also like a lot of other characters but im not gonna put them all in the tags, because i dont feel like its necessary, like basically, this is a canon fix it so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:10:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9325766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soul_of_blaze/pseuds/snowmissus
Summary: She did not say anything but looked upon him with a bittersweet smile.“It is a strange thing,” she said.“What’s that?”“This world,” the Lady turned her face away, looking forlornly at the remaining elf, who Bilbo noticed had not boarded the boat with her, “it is a feeling I fear I cannot name. But I think you shall know soon enough.”Her hands were gentle, holding Bilbo’s.





	

Under his fingers, the map felt odd. Its quality was different from that of the paper his father had used when drawing out the maps of the Shire. Nothing like the paper that hobbits produced. His eyebrows drew together.

Why would it be?

The map was not his. It was his, _now_ , yes, but it had not always been. His fingers traced along the river, following up until his thumb came to a stop against the peak of the mountain.  Here it was not so faded, nor torn, as much of the poor old thing was.  It’d been folded this way and that, as any properly used map might have been. It had suffered through a good deal of hands and dragonfire.

He started at the spot of wetness that had bloomed under the mountain’s base. His hand slowly came up, finding the wetness on his cheek as well. Inexplicably, he stared at his dampened fingers. Whatever had caused it, he could not figure out or remember. His eyes caught on the map again.

Bilbo looked up and away from the map, an unexplainable clench in his chest. Things were strewn about his room. No, rather they were arranged in piles.

Ah, that was right. He’d been packing.

Without another thought, he hobbled back over to his belongings and began sorting through them. He had not brought much with him to Rivendell. With the elves, he had not needed much. His own clothes, for nothing the elves had would fit him. And he had several of his own books, all his songs and poems written down, more written since he’d been in Rivendell.

He felt as though something was missing. An attempt to retrieve the memory of what he could have misplaced did no good. All he could recall was the feel of metal, soft and fond, but he could not fathom why.

A sound at the door into the room made him jump. He turned his head towards it curiously. The sudden movement did not help his mind much. For a moment, he only registered blue eyes and dark hair. His brows drew together again, struggling with the wave of sadness. Then, before he could figure out what he had been thinking, his mind cleared enough for him to see the face.

Frodo stood in his doorway.

The lad always looked tired. He had it about him, especially in his face. He’d seemed like that ever since he had come back. Bilbo could not remember _what_ it was he had come back from, only that the boy had disappeared for a time. When he had returned, the bright hobbit had dulled.

He still smiled and laughed, but all of it looked like a great effort.

Well, Bilbo could understand that. He too felt an indescribable tiredness.

“Uncle?” Frodo’s soft voice came closer than he expected. The lad stood next to him. “What are you doing?”

“What?” Bilbo frowned. “I’m packing, what does it look like?”

Frodo eyed him in concern. “Packing for what?”

“The trip,” he said dismissively, turning away from Frodo.

“Lord Elrond said we did not need to bring anything with us,” the lad said, his hand resting on Bilbo’s shoulder, “he said we’ll find we don’t need it. Besides, we have to go now. They’re waiting.”

The older hobbit hunched forward, looking over his belongings. Then he stepped back, feeling as Frodo moved with him. When he turned around, the younger hobbit had his hands clasped together. Bilbo’s attention from him to the map on his desk. After a moment, Frodo followed his line of sight. He too gazed at the map.

“Not even one thing?” Bilbo asked.

“No, uncle,” he said, moving into Bilbo’s field of vision, “I talked to Lady Arwen. She will preserve the map, she promised. We have to leave now.”

“Now?” Bilbo heard his voice, the confusion in it, but he couldn’t fathom it. Where were they going?

Frodo took his arm carefully, nodding his head and beginning to walk them out of the room. Bilbo, suddenly too confused, did not look back as they left it all behind.

“Yes,” said Frodo, walking them to a wagon. “Do you remember Pippin and Merry? They’re cousins of ours.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said, wracking his mind for a moment, “oh yes, those two lads. Every bit the Took and Brandybuck they are.”

“They’ll be coming with us,” Frodo explained as they walked out of the hobbit hole. Bilbo had no idea where they were. They were not outside of Bag End. “And Samwise too. You remember him?”

“Samwise?” Bilbo wracked his mind again. He could not recall.

Frodo seemed to realize this and merely patted Bilbo’s arm gently. “Well, he’s a good friend of mine and he’ll be travelling with us too. Come, now, you must remember Gandalf.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” he chuckled, “Gandalf. That old troublemaker.”

Bilbo looked up at the wagon again, noticing the wizard sitting at the front. Though, to Bilbo, he looked different. His face did not though, and the hobbit would have recognized his old friend anywhere. The strangeness escaped his mind as Frodo guided him to the back of the wagon. The lad helped him in and then sat down next to him.

As they began moving, Bilbo felt himself drifting away. He had not felt so tired before. Beside him, Frodo’s shoulder felt rather comfortable. There were questions on his mind, but they faded as sleep overtook him.

He jerked awake, his mind stumbling for a moment before he focused on the faces of the hobbits before him. They were not paying him much mind, rather talking, but one of them noticed after a moment. He had a soft look about him, though a hard edge to his eyes. Bilbo did not recognize him. His eyebrows drew together but then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Bilbo,” a soft voice said. “We are here. Sam and I are going to help you.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said. He let the boy help him out. With careful hands Sam, Samwise?, took his left arm. Frodo curled his hands comfortingly around Bilbo’s right. Bilbo could hear Meriadoc and Peregrin behind them as they all five walked down.

He looked up, taking in the scene spanning out in front of him. His mouth fell open slightly as his eyes took in the shimmering water, the boat, and the elves before him.

“Well,” he managed, “this is a sight I have never seen before.”

And he’d seen a great many things of the world. Bilbo met eyes with one of the elves, who he realized after a second to be Elrond. A fondness overtook him and he bowed his head slightly. The elf returned it, but Bilbo’s attention was stolen for a moment by the golden elf beside him.

“The power of the Three Rings is ended. The time has come... for the dominion of Men.”

Elrond’s face seemed to soften as he looked at Bilbo, holding his arms open. “ _The sea calls us home_ ,” he said, and Bilbo knew that to be Elvish. He smiled widely.

“I think I’m quite ready for another adventure,” he declared and used the very little strength he could find to make his way over to Elrond. He felt the light touch on his back as the elf escorted him onto the boat. It had been so long since he had been on a ship, on the water, like this.

He heard the soft footfalls of the Lady as she too boarded the ship. They were to leave soon. As he sat down, he had a thought. Bilbo looked around himself and around the boat. Where was Gandalf? He had the distinct feeling that the wizard would be going with them as well. He started when the Lady sat down next to him, the warm breeze blowing her hair about gently.

She did not say anything but looked upon him with a bittersweet smile.

“It is a strange thing,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“This world,” the Lady turned her face away, looking forlornly at the remaining elf, who Bilbo noticed had not boarded the boat with her, “it is a feeling I fear I cannot name. But I think you shall know soon enough.”

Her hands were gentle, holding Bilbo’s. He turned to look in the direction that her gaze had turned. Gandalf boarded the ship, sweeping onto it in a dramatic manner, but Bilbo’s eyebrows drew together. Frodo followed him shortly, his eyes rimmed red. He glanced over his shoulder, perhaps one last time. Frodo lingered for a long while before he turned back. His eyes met Bilbo’s and the Lady stood, wandering over towards Gandalf and Elrond.

Frodo came to sit with him, letting Bilbo lean against him. Again, Bilbo found himself suddenly exhausted. He could hear the soothing sound of Sindarin being spoken, the soft voice of his nephew, and the sound of sea. With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes. A nap would not be out of schedule right about now. They had a long trip, besides.

 

Long Bilbo must have slept, for he did not feel very tired anymore. He roused from sleep, disoriented for the first seconds. As he came more to himself, he only became more disoriented. The ground against him felt hard as rock and more than that, he did not remember falling asleep on the ground. He’d been in the boat, he could remember, and even wood did not feel this hard.

There was no gentle rock as there might be when the tide cradled a boat. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Had they arrived while he’d slept? But surely he would have woken if he’d been carried by Gandalf or one of the others. He could not see a thing.

Panic welled in his chest. It was not cold but neither was it warm. With a deep breath, Bilbo managed onto his feet. He felt _strange_ , as if he’d been returned to a different state. That was not particularly bad, but it did not sit right with him. The hobbit had too much energy for his age, for how he had felt the last years.

A few steps revealed that he did not need support, either. His legs could handle him fine. Still he stumbled as he moved forward. He had not walked all by himself in a long time, besides the fact that he could not see anything.

Suddenly, as if something had responded to his annoyed thoughts, the room lit up. It forced Bilbo to close his eyes until he could open them and adjust. The hall that opened up before him could only be described as vast. He recalled Erebor as he turned in a circle, if only that the dwarves had built their halls high. Bilbo spotted a way out and headed for it immediately, as the rest of the hall appeared closed off. It was dark down the way, but as he took step, it lit up in front of him.

Peculiar.

The hobbit felt a giddiness as he continued until he came upon the end of the way. It opened up into another vast hall but this one was not empty.

Bilbo stared, wide-eyed, at the gigantic figures before him. They were incomparable. Perhaps he had made a sound, though how they might hear something as small as him, for one of them looked down, down, down at him.

Before he could anything but gape, the hobbit found himself almost toppled over as the being picked him up. He clung to their hand as he found himself lifted high up into the air. When he managed to look up, Bilbo stared back at the being that had scooped him up.

Then he stood up. He’d faced a dragon before. He had killed orcs and wargs and goblins.

The being stared back at him. A velvet voice spoke from behind him, though the words were lost on Bilbo. They spoke a language he could not comprehend, he supposed. He dared a glance back at the other being. They had a tired look about them and long, long hair. Bilbo snapped his attention back to the being holding him aloft.

“Welcome to my halls, little one,” they said, their voice harsh but not unkind, “I am Mandos. You have arrived in… unusual manner.”

Mandos gazed at him for a moment, his great brow pulling together. Then, he nodded his head slightly. Bilbo felt bewildered.

“Melian,” he bellowed, and Bilbo turned slightly. The other being did not react, though they looked toward one of the many entrances into the hall.

A moment passed before a figure appeared from the entrance the beings had both looked to. This figure did not dwarf Bilbo as the other two did. She had a sad look about her but she raised her head up to Mandos.

“Please, take this one to Estë, in the Gardens.” As he spoke, Mandos deposited him onto the ground next to Melian. “He will find what he is looking for there.”

Bilbo looked up, confusion etched across his face but Melian began guiding him out of the hall. She did not say very much as they walked. He decided he did not mind too much. It gave him time to sort out all that had happened.

Was he having an odd dream?

As they left the hall, a world bloomed before him suddenly. His eyes caught on the two large trees, but there was quite a lot laid out in front of him. Melian had paused when he’d come to a stop. She looked at him quietly.

“Where are we?” Bilbo asked.

“Valinor,” she replied, pausing before tacking on, “some may call it the Undying Lands.”

“Oh,” he managed, looking around curiously. He had arrived to where he was supposed to be, then. But where were Elrond, Frodo, Gandalf, and the Lady?

“This way,” she directed him, towards a grand garden. They slipped in easily through the mist though Melian came to a stop, her eyes guarded. “Estë will find you. I must return.”

Before Bilbo could thank her, she had turned around and disappeared back through the mist. He looked around again, then breathed in and headed deeper into the gardens.

It soon became apparent that Bilbo was not the only one here. He’d catch glimpses of others, though brief, fleeting. The feeling that he was not alone did not feel as welcoming as he would have thought. Hunching his shoulders, the hobbit continued on in the garden. Melian had said that Estë would find him but he did not like waiting about.

He came to a clearing, the garden opening up around a lake. Though it was far away, there appeared to be a small island in the middle of the lake. Bilbo came to sit at the edge of the water. It felt peaceful here. He closed his eyes.

All of this was strange, but at least he had found somewhere nice.

The sound of feet and voices pulled him back. He hid behind one of the tree, though he was unsure why. It might well be Estë. Bilbo did not have any idea what she might look like though. Perhaps as large as Mandos and the other. But then, her footfalls would be far louder.

A figure came into his vision. She wore grey but she looked more restful than anyone else Bilbo had run into. If he had to guess, she was as tall as any elf he’d met. Melian had been as well. She came to a stop, turning her head to look out over the lake. He wondered after the other footfalls and voice.

Another, much smaller figure stopped next to her. Bilbo felt it like a punch to his gut.

He’d never forget that face, that figure, that voice that now echoed clearly to his ears. He couldn’t fathom the words at the moment. The lady had turned back towards him, her eyes soft as she spoke. Her words were too quiet for Bilbo to make out.

His heart thundered.

Thorin looked much as he had the day he had died. He was dressed down, though, and his hair braided differently from anything Bilbo had ever seen him wear. His eyes were brilliantly blue, happier than Bilbo had last seen them. There seemed no pain in him.

The lady looked his way, suddenly, meeting his eyes with a quiet smile. Bilbo froze.

“Bilbo Baggins,” she announced, a pleased look upon her face, “at last, you come to join us. Welcome to the Gardens of Lórien, I am Estë.”

Thorin looked the way she was, then back at her with a confused look upon his face. Did he not see Bilbo? The hobbit ducked his head.

He had not dreamed of this.

Perhaps he had, but now it was in front of him. Thorin stood there, unchanged, handsome as ever, and the happiest Bilbo had ever seen him. He did not need a troublesome hobbit in his life or his… death? Bilbo glanced down at himself minor confusion.

Estë’s voice pulled him from his revelation. “There is no need to hide away. Come out, these gardens are a place of rest and healing.”

Despite the debate in his mind, Bilbo did step out. The lady smiled softly at him, her hand coming out from her robes to rest on his shoulder. “Look at you. You do deserve a rest, don’t you?”

Bilbo kept his eyes firmly on her face, unwilling to look at Thorin again.

“I would like to sit and talk with you, but I am afraid,” she paused and yawned, stifling it with her free hand, “I am afraid that I must rest. Though, I know I am leaving you in capable hands.”

Before Bilbo could do much of anything, again, Estë simply vanished from his sight. He breathed in and then turned to Thorin. The dwarf stared at him, his face tight. Actually having a look at the dwarf told Bilbo that he had not changed at all, besides his clothes and hair. It was odd.

Thorin gazed back at him, his face softening after a minute.

“Bilbo-“

“You look the same.” He said, his voice edging on hysteria.

“You are changed,” replied Thorin, amused. “Of course, nothing happens in death.”

“Right,” Bilbo managed. “Yes. Of course. You’re… dead.”

Thorin gave him an odd look. “You watched me die,” he said, his tone gentle. His hands came to support Bilbo when the hobbit nearly toppled over. “Let us not have a repeat of our first meeting.”

The dwarf guided them to a bench that Bilbo had not noticed before. He gripped the edge of it, grounding himself while Thorin sat by quietly. Thorin did not seem troubled at all, as though they had all the time in the world. They did, Bilbo thought, trying to wrap himself around the idea.

“I am dead?” he asked, his voice frighteningly small.

“Aye,” Thorin answered. “You would not be here otherwise.”

“I was going to the Undying Lands,” he started, his voice trembling, “I… I could still be…”

“Bilbo,” Thorin’s tone came a little harsh, “we would not be talking.”

Bilbo stared at his hands for a while before looking at Thorin again. “What are you doing here? Where are all the other dwarves?”

“They are in Mahal’s halls. I… As Estë said, this place is for healing and rest. I have needed both, quite a lot of both.” Thorin reached for Bilbo’s hand, and when he did not shy away, the dwarf engulfed his hands. “Bilbo. I have waited for you, here.”

“You waited for me?” Bilbo spluttered a little.

“I love you,” Thorin said, sincerely. His eyes glittered. “We may not have endless time, but we… we have a long time here. If you want. I would not assume…”

“Oh, goodness,” murmured Bilbo, his eyes welling with tears, “I have loved you, all this time. You foolish dwarf.”

Thorin smiled, his hand squeezing tightly. Bilbo looked at him and then away in embarrassment.

“Though I am hardly the hobbit you once looked upon. You probably do not find me very attractive, anymore, and I would not blame you.”

“What?” Thorin chuckled through his question. “I admit; you do look different. Your hair is greyer than when I knew you, and you may have more wrinkles than before. Though I can only say it makes you finer.”

Bilbo glanced back at him, his face heating up. “Silly dwarf.”

“Smitten dwarf,” Thorin said, leaning in to press their foreheads together. “If I am to spend eternity with such a handsome hobbit, then I am a blessed dwarf indeed.”

Bilbo’s snort in response nearly ruined the kiss the dwarf attempted a moment after. The other spirits gave the bench a wide berth, as Bilbo recounted all the tales he could think of for Thorin. But, he thought as he started in on what had happened when he’d returned to the Shire, he had a very, very long time to tell him everything.

**Author's Note:**

> theres a lot here that i worked with so just... know that i tried my hardest to do a little research for the size of this (aka, its not big so research is minor) 
> 
> i wanted this to be as canon compliant as necessary but then i wrote the opening without referring to the movies/books so oops we'll just roll with it


End file.
